


Every Breath (Hallelujah)

by aparticularbandit



Category: The X-Files, Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit
Summary: In which a human Jessica Rabbit tries to find a friend, runs into someone she does not particularly like, and the two of them work to fix her whole "being human" problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Every Breath (Hallelujah) - Chapter One:**

Not every agent has an office of their own.  Mulder should count it lucky that he  _does_  - one he forced into being by his pursuit and dedication of the paranormal files which were given no justice otherwise.  It wasn’t until he’d completed research on file after file, first investigating and then closing them, that he was given his own, unique space to work.  
  
In the basement, where they could hide him away and pretend as though he, along with his x-files, did not exist.  This was fine by him - although he reported directly to Assistant Director Skinner, the x-files were his alone and, for the most part, he had his own jurisdiction over which cases he took, whichever ones tweaked his interest.  On occasion, a few were passed his way requiring his assistance, given the dipping of their toes into the paranormal - now  **his**  place - but for the most part, he was alone.  
  
Mulder was used to loneliness.  
  
The office was his, and so he decorated it for himself - his poster, his newspaper clippings, his filing cabinet with the investigations most critical to him (others in cabinets further away), a desk far enough from his chair that he could prop his feet up when he wanted (and with one drawer solely for bags of sunflower seeds - he’d broken the smoking habit years ago and picked up this one instead).  Perhaps another person might consider it  _strange_ , but what should that matter?  
  
Today he was alone, as was the norm, the drawer of sunflower seeds open so that he could crack the shells and eat the seeds as he perused one of his files, when a  _knock_  came at the door.  
  
 _Odd_ , that there should be a knock when most agents opened the door and waltzed right on in as though he had nothing better to do than to listen to and aid them  **(** when none of them would do such for him if the tables were flipped -  _not_  that he ever needed them, but in such a case that he  _might_ **)**.  
  
 **“** It’s open. **”**  
  
He drops his feet from his desk as the door pushes open, and what some other agents would refer to as a  _long-legged beauty_  walked in  **(** he wouldn’t.  he didn’t care **)**.  Her hair was too  **black**  to be real, so he guessed it was something of a much more  _reddish_  tint  **(** probably dyed - fake - no  _real_  hair was such a flat shade - even most redheads were more of a deep brown, such that he couldn’t tell unless he was told, but those who chose to  **dye**  their hair were far easier to notice **)**  as that would look better with her pallid expression and blue-green eyes.  
  
 **“** I’m looking for Dan--  Agent Dana Scully.  Is she here, by chance? **”  
**  
He doesn’t know the name.  
  
 **“** No.  Who? **”**  
  
The woman’s eyes narrow and she glances to the nameplate on the door before looking back to him.   **“** You’re Agent Fox Mulder, correct? **”**  
  
 **“** Yes.  Have we met? **”**  
  
 **“** No. **”**   The woman enters his office and shuts the door behind her without the barest click.   **“** We haven’t.  We  _don’t_.  Wouldn’t. **”**   A single shake of her head, hand brushing through the hair draping in front of her left eye as though to push it away  **(** it just falls back into place **)**.   **“** You don’t know an Agent Dana Scully? **”**  
  
 **“** No. **”**   Mulder does not mention the possibility of calling the operator or searching for her that way - he is too hung up on the woman’s words - the  _don’t...wouldn’t_  - to let this slip through his fingers.   **(** Also, this has the potential to be far more interesting than the file on his desk, which was interesting enough - but much more lonely. **)**    **“** I might be able to help. **”**  
  
 **“** I wasn’t here for help. **”**   The woman opens her mouth as though to continue, then shuts it just as quickly.  The silence lingers as she crosses one arm, taps fingers on her bicep.  
  
 **“** Then why  _are_  you here? **”**  
  
The woman shakes her head and turns toward the door.   **“** I thought...well, it doesn’t matter what I  _thought_.  Unless.... **”**  
  
 **“** Unless? **”**  
  
She turns back and steps forward, places her free hand on the back of the chair on the other side of his desk.   **“** You wouldn’t happen to know how I might find a  _genie_ , would you? **”**  
  
Someone is puling his leg.  
  
\-- _not_ , of course, that he doesn’t believe in the possible existence of genies if the proper evidence led in that direction, but more that people within the Bureau didn’t  _ask_  about them unless they were trying to catch him in some sort of  **joke**.  
  
But there isn’t anyone else here, and those are the sorts of jokes best told in a crowd...or at least a grouping better than  _two_.  No one came down to the x-files and shut the door just to mock him.  At least, they haven’t  _yet_.  
  
 **“** Unfortunately not, but if you’ll sit down and explain to me why you need a genie, miss...? **”**  
  
Mulder is already moving - standing - starting to search through one of his filing cabinets, not because he knows of any x-files explicitly dealing with a genie but that, if she gave him more information, he might be able to match enough to find  _something_.  As the question enters the air, he turns to face her -  _surprised_  because, oddly, they are the same height.

 **“** Jessica. **”**   A hesitation, then,  **“** Irving.  And I don’t think you want-- **”  
**  
 **“** Want what? **”**  Mulder interrupts.  He is... _good_  at interrupting, when he needs to be.  He is watching her, reading the way she stands with her little pink purse tucked over one arm, the fingers now clenched around her bicep, the not-quite-panicked look on her face.   **“** Miss Irving-- **”**  


**“** Jessica. **”**  


**“** Jessica, **”**  he amends quickly enough,  **“** I may not be able to find you a  _genie_ , but I might have enough other evidence to help you find what you need. **”**  
  
Or not.  But he could  _try_  at least.  
  
The woman glances to the closed door briefly then up to the ceiling as though looking for a camera  **(** he knows the look because he has performed the same action fairly often, although much more discreetly.  Well.  He tells himself he’s more discreet, but in all honest opinion, this may not be the case **)**.  Her lips press together and she nods once to herself before sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.   **“** You will want to be seated, too.  This might take a while. **”**  
  
Mulder does not reply to this but instead crosses to his desk, where he sits across from her.   **“** Lay it on me. **”  
  
“**How much do you know about Toons? **”**


	2. Chapter 2

“What you’re telling me is that there are animated actors -  _Toons_  - who are being turned into humans.”  
  
“That’s the short version of it, yes.”  Jessica brushes a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eye, an action that does no good as the hair falls back shortly after.  
  
“And sometimes  _not_  humans.”  
  
“It all depends on what they were before they transformed.  An anthropomorphic bear would be a bear, and a rabbit--”  
  
“--like your husband--”  


“--would be turned into a rabbit, yes.”  


“By a genie.”  
  
“Yes.”  


“And you are trying to get him turned back before he dies.”  


“Yes.”  


“What about you?”  Mulder hasn’t been taking notes, but there’s a pencil between his fingers anyway, and he taps the eraser on his desk as he leans back in his chair.  “Do you want to be changed back?”  


“Me?”  


“Well, yeah.”  The question seems simple enough - or, perhaps, it hadn’t crossed Jessica  _Rabbit_ ’s mind that she had a choice in the manner.  “You’re here to save your husband, but if you find a way to fix him, will you want to be a Toon again?  Or--”  


“Let’s not think about that right now,” she interrupts, eyes glancing down to the little pink purse now sitting in her lap, her fingers tight on the clasp.  She shifts in her seat in the silence before glancing back up, letting her blue eyes meet his chocolate brown ones.  “I can make that decision when we get there.   _If_  we get there.”  


“Right.”  Mulder lets it drop and sits a little straighter in his chair.  “You mentioned something about  _dreams_?”  He stands and returns to his filing cabinet, going through the x-files, eyes glancing to different names,  _looking_.  


“Yes.”  


“Do you believe those had any impact on what happened?”  He pauses, collects himself, then turns back to her and continues.  “Do you know where the dreams came from?”  


“No,” Jessica says, voice firm.  “They were going on for about a year prior to the event.  Before then, I’d never really had dreams - not all Toons get them, in fact most  _don’t_  - so I didn’t take any stock in them, other than initially being terrified.”  She shifts uncomfortably in her seat again under his gaze.  “But they didn’t stop and I...I got used to them.”  
  
“Did you share them with anyone else?”  


Jessica nods at this question.  “Roger, at first.  But as the later ones happened, I stopped.”  


_ Ah. _

“Why?”  
  
Another lengthy silence, and Jessica presses her lips together, gaze returning to the purse in her lap, knuckles growing white.  Mulder’s gaze narrows, head lowers, and he sits on the edge of his desk, hands hanging from his knees.  “You don’t have to answer that.”

“In the dreams, as the years passed and I couldn’t fix him, I...I met other people.  Fell in love again.  Made some...poor choices.”  She looks up.  “Things you don’t want to tell your husband.”  Her gaze returns to the purse.  “And, eventually, he died.  In the dreams.  And in the dreams, I...became lost.  Then I died.”  She doesn’t look up when her lips part this time in something that looks like but is not a smile.  “You don’t make someone you love hear those sorts of things.”  
  
“And the agent you mentioned--”  


“Appears to not exist,” Jessica says before Mulder has the chance to finish his question., “so let’s not talk of her.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Mulder suspects there’s something important there in what’s not being said, but he has no partner, no one to bounce that suspicion off once the woman is gone, and so it’ll stick just beneath the surface, in the back of his mind where it will turn over and over until nothing comes of it.  
  
“In my dreams - a cure comes, eventually.  Humans are changed into Toons, and there’s...pandemonium.  I was never involved, in the dreams, but I remember that it happens.  Shortly after Roger dies.”  Jessica presses her lips together and shakes her head.  “As an agent, that may be more integral to your job than... _this_.”  She opens one hand and spreads it.  
  
Whatever this woman knows from her dreams, she knows nothing of what his job entails.  The mystery would be enough for him.  
  
Mulder has to fight his first instinct - to take his trench coat, fold it over one arm, and leave the office with the woman in tow, taking what little information he has and flying out to find more - because the two of them aren’t partners in any sense of the word.  So he remains seated - fidgets a bit - but doesn’t force himself.  
  
“It may be easier to find a  _source_  than it will be to find a potential cure.  In your dreams, you spent years-”  


“Nine.”  


“-nine years trying to find a cure with nothing to show for it.  Find the source, and they might change him for you.”  


Jessica shakes her head.  “I was never able to find a source before.”  
  
“Your agent didn’t--”  


“She didn’t consider it a case.”  
  
 _There_ , that sharp sort of bite.  He can see it in her eyes, the way they flash a bright green - jealousy, a  _not human_  tendency that gives him some evidence of the validity of her story.  Jessica’s head drops then, and her eyes focus on her hands, now closed again, fingers tangling in on each other.  “She said that agents were not allowed to choose their cases.”  


“But you came here anyway.”  


Jessica looks up, lips pressed tight, and it isn’t green flashing through her normally blue eyes, but the way her cheeks darken - he knows she’s turning red, even if it looks black to him - and he thinks he sees the barest hint of  _smoke_  through her ears.  
  
This lasts maybe a minute, if that, then she calms again, takes a deep breath and lets it out all at once.  
  
“I came and I found you, and  _you_ , at least, appear interested in finding an answer to my problem, given that you are allowed to pursue this case.”  


“Good news.”  


“Yes?”  


Now Mulder  _does_  stand, takes his trench coat, and folds it over one arm.  “I don’t ask permission.”  
  
He starts out the door but stops when she touches his arm - not  _gentle_  but holding.  
  
“Where are you going?”  As if she doesn’t know - and she  _does_ , which is astonishing to him for someone who has never met him, not even in the dream visions she professes to have had.  “You can’t go to ToonTown.  You won’t find anything.”  
  
“It’s a place to start.”  
  
“I can’t go with you.”  
  
If anything,  _that_  makes him pause, and he turns back to her, halfway out of the office.  “You can’t go,” he say like a statement but with a disbelieving tone - a question without at all being inquisitive.  
  
“My owner, Eleanor.”  Jessica turns away, back into the office, arms crossed just under her all-too ample chest, as if to exaggerate their size (if that were even possible).  “She doesn’t want the government involved.”  She hesitates.  “It’s one thing to talk to you; it’s another thing for you to fly out there and start an investigation.”  


“It’s not an investigation,” Mulder says with a grin.  “It’s curiosity.  You’ve just told me an entire species of people exist and have been kept secret from the rest of the world for reasons you don’t know.  I’d like to see them for myself.”  


“Then let me speak with her first.”  It’s not a plea - it’s an order - her voice doesn’t quaver with the authority of it, but it’s there all the same.  She doesn’t expect a question from him, he can tell, and she passes him in the doorway.  “If you go to ToonTown, you’ll want a Toon at your back, or you’re going to get lost.   _Don’t_  go without me.”  


“And if I do?”  


“Then you’re every  _bit_  the idiot I believed you were.”


End file.
